Years ago when I had only just begun my study of budo, the martial ways of Japan, I had a conversation with a friend’s father. Now my friend had little use for his father’s advice. “What does my old man know about budo,” he used to say. But as I saw it, his father had studied under one of the pioneers of judo in North America before I was born. It couldn’t hurt to listen.
In my teenage years, I took every opportunity to practice. On weekends I frequently found myself in my friend’s basement training on the previous week’s lessons. Usually after training, we would sit around and chat into the wee hours of the morning until his parents would get home. His father among other things belonged to a Country and Western band. After playing his usual Friday night gig, he would have a few drinks to wind down then come home and have a few more.
One night upon his return home, his father who also had the gift of gab once he had had a few, decided to join us to impart some of his wisdom. He began to talk of the good old days, his judo training when he was younger. I remember very little about his monologue except for a small piece that I must have stored in my subconscious until over a decade later. As my friend gestured that his father was a drunk, crazy old fool, I listened to a piece of advice that has proved to be invaluable to my study of budo.
“Learn uke. Become the greatest uke, Hatashita Sensei used to tell us,” he said. “If you understand uke, the movements and techniques will become clear.” This was his simple lesson, one not clearly understood at the time, but one I banked away for some unknown reason until I was mature enough to understand what wise words they were.
Years later I found myself enrolled in the International Instructor Course in Tokyo, Japan at the Yoshinkan Headquarters (Hombu Dojo). The Course, according to Yoshinkan Aikido practitioners, is the most intensive training available. It is a gruelling 11 months of blood, sweat, tears and serious budo study. Designed as a long term boot camp type training in aikido, participants were constantly reminded that we were the lowest form of life in the dojo, but we were required to set the highest standard of etiquette for others to follow.
The reason I bring this up now is that during the initial six months of the Course, as we who have graduated refer to it, the Japanese sensei all had assistants and translators. The sensei never used one of the participants to demonstrate technique. Why would they, after all we were the lowest life form, unable to do anything correctly. We were there to observe and learn – learn. Then one day, something miraculous happened. As the assistant prepared to take Ando Sensei’s uke for the class’ lesson, he was motioned to sit down and Sensei called me up as uke. I snapped to attention, and although my heart was pounding wildly as the adrenaline surged through me, I bowed and did my best to stay alive as Sensei demonstrated for the others what was the most powerful throw I had ever felt. My body slammed to the floor and as the aging concrete like tatami sent shock waves that reached my core, a memory from the distant past like a bolt of lightning flashed in my mind – “Learn uke. Become the greatest uke.” And at that moment I understood the ramblings of my friend’s old man. Ando Sensei wasn’t teaching the others at that moment, he was teaching me. As I regained my balance and stood in front of Sensei, he smiled at the dorky grin that must have been on my face. He joked with the others, “Look, good aikido makes people happy when you throw them.” I was smiling, but it wasn’t because I was just planted into the tatami like it was nobody’s business. It was because I had an epiphany of sorts. The words ring as clear today as they did the day Ando Sensei smashed me to the ground that first time.
Being uke, as I came to understand that moment, means understanding what the technique feels like from the inside. Learning to be the greatest uke means that you can receive the hardest techniques, thus understanding how they work so that you can make them work from the inside out.
When the Course finished, such a bond had developed between Ando Sensei and I in the few short months of being his uke that I requested to stay in Japan and become his student and later his deshi, apprentice.
The first time at his dojo I expected to see his regular students jump at the chance to be uke for such a great teacher. I didn’t think I would have a chance to get to be his uke. As Ando Sensei stood waiting to demonstrate a technique, no one rushed to face him – to be his uke – to have the best seat in the house from which to study. I actually couldn’t move because I was so stunned. Finally, one of his regular students stepped forward and the technique was demonstrated. I decided at that moment that things would change. While I was around, Ando Sensei would no longer have to wait for his uke, and no longer would I ever give up the best seat in the house without a fight.
At every opportunity I took uke, I learned aikido from the side of uke. This is how I learned to be shite.
Uke - the Life Lesson:
Being uke, being on the receiving end in a conflict or confrontation is not a comfortable experience. It can be overwhelming to be in a conflict whether it is physical or more likely in our lives mental, emotional or interpersonal. It is not for the weak of spirit or body. It takes sincere training and effort to strengthen ourselves to be prepared to deal with confrontation and come out unscathed. Aikido’s physical training to be uke is a metaphor for the forging that must occur if we are going to temper our spirit and make it strong enough to overcome adversity and emerge safe and well.
In Aikido practice in a traditional dojo, uke is commonly seen as the aggressor in the practice of physical techniques. We take turns being uke, in filling the shoes of the one who initiates conflict, but who receives the repercussions of this initiation.
This training is essential to the proper development of the mind, body and spirit. It is naïve to think that we will never be the instigators in a conflict, and even more so to believe that we will always be lucky enough to always come out on top regardless of who initiates it. Training to be uke prepares us for the bumpy road down which life sometimes takes us.
~ Stephen Ohlman
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